Calling Out to Me
by Connor MacManus
Summary: Five months ago, Bridget Kavanagh lost her boys. Now she has to learn how to survive with just her new baby, and a fading hope that they're still alive. Murphy/OC


_**Story Info**_

**Title: **Calling Out to Me

**Fandom: **The Bookdock Saints

**Rating: **M

**Pairing: **Murphy/OC

**Summary: **Five months ago, Bridget Kavanagh lost her boys. Now she has to learn how to survive with just her new baby, and a fading hope that they're still alive.

**Spoilers: **Both movies

.x.x.x.x.

_**Chapter Info**_

**Title: **Sunshine

**Number: **1/2

**Warning: **Language, angst, death

**Author's Note: **Hello, everyone! This is my first story for The Boondock Saints fandom. :) But I love Norman Reedus, and this story was poking at my mind, so enjoy! Also note, this story takes place after the second movie by about five months, so when it says "present day," it means that timing. Thanks everyone for reading and reviews are love!

PS - I know I'm not very good at writing out accents, and for that I apologize, but I hope it was still okay!  
>PPS - I don't plan on stopping with this one story for this fandom, so really, I'd love to hear your thoughts!<br>Note: Un-beta'd as of now.

* * *

><p><strong>-Present Day-<strong>

The sun warmed her skin, made her usually cold body tingle with the unusually warm rays. This far north in Ireland, they rarely had any sun that lasted like this. It had been the second day of pure sunshine and Bridget Kavanagh loved feeling the warmth. Her heart had been so heavy for the five months since her boys left, that the surprising break of sun actually made her feel a little bit happy. A soft, wistful smile broke over her face as she looked out over the wide expanse of fields, knowing she should get her morning work started and finished, but it was just so hard to do some days, and not because she was missing her family. It was because of the still growing, wiggling baby in her belly that caused more of an ache in her heart than it should. The baby reminded her of its father, the man she loved and lost, the man she would long for the rest of her life. She would love her child, but that ache in her chest would never go away.

Her feet carried her down the small staircase to the first floor, her steps slow and steady, one hand supporting the small of her back, the other using the wall for guidance until she reached the floor and then she placed it over her round belly. She felt the child squirm and she sighed gently, murmuring what she always did: "Daddy loves you, baby... Daddy loves you..." The baby didn't know any better, but somehow that always seemed to soothe it. Because she knew he loved their child, and if he were alive and back from Boston, he wouldn't leave their sides.

That was just how her Murphy was.

Sniffing lightly to clear away yet another wave of tears before they hit. She rubbed her belly once more before getting the kettle over the fire to start tea (the kind Old Mrs. O'Grady down the road insisted she drink) and warm up some eggs; breakfast was always important even before she got pregnant. Well, she never thought so until Noah made her sit down with him and the boys to eat. But she quickly found that it gave her more energy, especially the delicious tea he always made, and so now after she was pregnant it was even more important. Her boys wouldn't have let her not eat, so she made herself even if she's not hungry.

As always, she ate silently and quickly, needing to get work done and wanting to enjoy the sun, afraid it would just disappear as it always had, as it always will. As everything seem to have done so quickly.

She washed her dishes quickly before bringing her shawl closer and stepping out into the warm light. Standing there on the front porch, she smiled sadly and let her eyes slide shut. A picture, a memory slid through her mind: Murphy behind her, his fingers tracing her hips and then around her belly, pulling her against him and whispering that he loves her. This memory came before she was pregnant, but somehow she could feel what it was like to have his fingers dance over their baby's home, silent as they basked in the sunlight and this new life together. She wanted him there more than anything, but she also understood why he had to go to Boston. She understood his actions, and she didn't cast him away for them. In fact, when he told her, she just held him tighter, pushing away his fears that she wouldn't want him after that. That was very far from the truth.

Breaking herself from her memories and wishful thoughts, she moved herself slowly for the barn where her horse, Jasper, stood. He needed a bath before they got started. She had managed to get a hose attached to the high barn showers so she could hose him down along with gathering a bucket, soap, and a brush. Jasper actually liked his bath, and loved to prance around with a freshly washed coat, and he always got a carrot or an apple afterwards.

"Such a good boy," she praised with a soft smile, her small hand moving over his dark brown coat. He lifted his head proudly and she laughed softly at his antics, shaking her head. "Goofball."

Once he was dry, she put the blanket and saddle on him along with the reins and climbed on. Murphy, and even Connor and Noah, would have had a heart attack if they saw her, but there was no getting around it. They were gone, and she had work to do. The farm had to keep running.

The horse walked out slowly as she was far enough along that she knew a gallop would be a bad idea. Still, she didn't even think about what might happen as the horse was lead through the large fields, the wonderful sun beating down on her skin. It wasn't until she was out about six miles from the house that she realized where she was. Looking around, she couldn't help the memories that kicked up there either, and the lonely feeling swallowed her whole again, enough she couldn't even feel the sun anymore. Loneliness was so cold, feeding the depression, and the whole worked grayed out again.

Slowly she led Jasper over into the shade of the large willow tree. This tree was hundreds of years old, thick bark covering every inch, the branches reaching the ground. Jasper didn't like them on his face, but he liked the circle of branches and when she climbed down, he did a little dance around it. She couldn't even smile at that, not now. She hadn't ventured near this tree in five years; there was no need to. The only reason she ever went there was for Murphy, and once they became more serious, she didn't need to be there. As she sat on the soft grass and looked around, she closed her eyes as she thought back to those years ago, and what it was like to fall in love with him.

.x.x.x.x.

**-Five Years Ago-**

It had taken her three years to actually get up the courage to leave Ireland and move to America for school. Her parents always wanted her to take over the family farm, but she wanted more for her life. She was interested in so many things, and she couldn't seem to make up her mind. Fashion, photography, medicine, law... She wanted to do it all even though it was impossible, but she finally did it, she moved to New York City and managed to get into Columbia University.

Mercy Kavanagh was a sick woman, though. Bridget always thought her mother a strong woman, able to leave her abusive father in France and move in with Aiden, Bridget's father, at seventeen years old. But she had been sick since Bridget was young, and went into remission when Bridget left. So she came back, back to the family farm, where her mother died of her sickness and then just a year later, Aiden Kavanagh died of a broken heart.

Bridget was alone in the world for the first time, and yet she couldn't seem to bring herself to sell the farm and move away. So she stayed there, burying her parents next to the ancient, crumbling barn under the oak tree that they always had Sunday picnics under (weather permitting) when Bridget was growing up. She visited them and gave them fresh flowers every day. She told them about her day, and made sure the grass was always mowed.

She didn't know anybody had bought the old McDowell farm was purchased until she was in the back pasture and almost fell off her horse when she saw a man standing out by the old willow her great great great grandfather planted when he was a boy. She had never seen him before, so she stopped the horse, staring at him with wide eyes. It wasn't often that people wandered onto her land, but then again, she realized this was the McDowell farm and it wasn't her land after all.

Still, it had been at least a month since she had seen anybody, the last being Old Mrs. O'Grady when she bought milk from her, and she almost ran away from him. It didn't occur to her that being frightened of seeing someone else was a bad thing, but she couldn't help it. Even from her horse, she knew he was a bit taller than her five foot even frame, and his shoulders and arms broad enough to show the obvious strength he had in him. It was intimidating and startling, and she hadn't even seen his face yet.

But something in her told her that he wouldn't hurt her, so she jumped down from her horse and tied his reins to the nearest tree. The branches of the willow swayed in the wind, bringing them up enough that it created a semi-opening that she could slide through without making too much noise. When a twig snapped under her foot, the man twirled to her, alarm clear across his...Oh my...beautiful face. She held back the shock on her face enough and finding him there let alone noticing the fact that his eyes were a clear blue more beautiful than the ocean, and his broad body was perfect to press against...

What the bloody hell is wrong with you? she thought. It had been far too long since she had the nice touch of a man, but this is ridiculous. Calm down and talk to him like a human being.

She held up her hands lightly in surrender and tilted her chin down a little to show that she wasn't up to something no good. She saw he reached for his belt as if reaching for a gun a wondered if he is or was a cop, but didn't comment on it. "Sorry," she said, her voice soft and (hopefully) welcoming. "Didn't mean to startle ya. I live next farm over, was just wandering with my horse, didn't know anybody bought the McDowell farm." She might have been rambling just a bit, but the man just kept staring at her. Now that she was closer, she could tell he was older than her, somewhere between five and ten years. He didn't open his mouth at all and her smile slowly faded. She began backing away again. "Sorry..." She turned and started to push the branches away.

"Murphy."

She paused and looked back over her shoulder, her eyes quizzical as she studied his face for a moment. "Pardon?"

"'S my name. Murphy. MacManus."

She didn't hide the surprise when he clarified. She didn't expect him to speak from the way he was staring let alone get a name from him. She almost didn't want to say something and sound stupid again, but gingerly she let herself turn back, her face showing a slight smile. "Bridget Kavanagh," she said softly. Her feet moved her forwards and she held out a hand to him and he glanced at it and then her face, before finally shaking it with a nod.

Moving her hand away, she looked around, not seeing another horse and realizing he must have walked all the way, which was a good ways from the McDowell farm, assuming he owned it now. "Didn't mean ta interrupt. Didn't realize I wasn't on my land anymore. These pastures are large, and the back lot haven't been used in awhile." He still said nothing and Bridget wondered then if perhaps she should just leave after all. The only reason he spoke to her was to be polite, but it was clear he didn't want to see her. "Anyway, sorry again."

"'S okay," he said. Bridget realized how much she loved his voice even though he had barely spoken to her. But she hated how much she loved it, and she didn't even know wasn't a silly school girl who had a crush on every man she saw. But then again, she also knew a beautiful man when she saw him, and Murphy MacManus was definitely in that category. Those eyes, his shoulder-length hair, the mustache and beard. Normally she didn't like men with facial hair, but this man... There was just something about him.

Her eyes watched as his flickered around and suddenly she found herself saying, "Did you need a ride back home?" She almost winced at her stupid question and the way those eyes were suddenly piercing her. "I-I mean, must be a long walk back. Can help ya out if ya need."

For a moment he looked like he was either going to laugh or tell her to go to Hell, but she was pleasantly surprised when he nodded and even gave a quirk of his lips. "Sounds great," he said.

She gave him a wider smile and nodded him over to the horse, climbing up and letting him climb on behind her. She paused only briefly as his arm wrapped around her waist, the feeling of the strong arm against her not lost at all.

It didn't take long with the horse to get him back to his house. He murmured a quiet, "Thanks," when he dismounted and she gave him a nod, holding tight onto the reins tighter so he wouldn't move.

"You're welcome, Murphy. It was nice meeting you." She gave him a nod and a smile before riding back off towards the opposite direction, trying very hard not to notice the feeling of his eyes on her back.

.x.x.x.x.

**-Three Months Later-**

It wasn't until a month after they met that she met Connor and Noah. Immediately she saw both boys in their father, and the differences between the twins (looks aside). But she also noticed that they were very close, and did even the smallest things for each other even if they picked fun at the other person. She also noticed they seemed to be keeping a secret, but she never asked. Murphy was already hard enough to open up as it was (Connor was much easier on that part), so she didn't want to ruin anything by asking him.

Still, she loved their daily meetings out under the old willow tree, and she didn't know if he enjoyed his times there or if he was there just to see if she would be. Deep down, she hoped it was the latter, that the silly crush she was developing was double-sided. Never before had she really cared if her feelings were returned or not, but with Murphy it seemed different. Right. And she found herself smiling silly whenever she thought about him, her heart racing when the time came to take the horse down to the willow. Her hands would shake and sweat, and she would actually search her closet through things she found in New York City for things that might impress him, even if he didn't seem like the kind of guy who really cared. But she did, she wanted him to notice that she made an effort, notice her.

They met under the tree every day for three months under that tree, but it was clear to her that although Murphy was becoming a friend, that nothing seemed to go beyond that. Sure she caught him looking at her now and then, and he'd look away if he caught her noticing his glances, but perhaps he was just curious about her as she was him. That didn't stop her from wishing, though, and one day she found it was just too hard to put in the effort to go down there when it would all be in vain. He was a man that didn't do relationships of any kind, aside from Connor and Noah, at least from what she understood. She had wished and wished, and as always, it got her nothing.

Because she had wished away her mother's illness and her father's broken heart, but they were both gone now, her wishes nothing but silly little dreams in the back of her mind.

So on the three month anniversary of her and Murphy's meeting, she instead went to the old oak tree by the barn, the wind blowing her light hair over her shoulders, the giant coat that once belonged to Aiden wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her mother's boots covered her feet, the woman's wedding ring on her right hand.

She let herself cry as her body fell between the two stones. Old Mrs. O'Grady's husband was a master at carving and made them beautiful headstones made of granite and lime. They were both shaped like crosses, leaning gently against the other as Aiden and Mercy had in life.

**Mercy Kavanagh**  
><strong>Aged 48 Years<strong>  
><strong>Beloved Mother and Wife<strong>  
><strong>God's Angel<strong>

**Aiden Kavanagh **  
><strong>Aged 50 Years<strong>  
><strong>Beloved Father and Husband<strong>  
><strong>With His Angel<strong>

Bridget hadn't told Old Mr. O'Grady what to carve, but they were perfect and just what they needed. Her trembling fingers traced their names and she let out a sob into the wind. "I miss you," she murmured, hanging her head for being so weak. For falling for a man who clearly didn't want the same, for not following her dreams like her mother always wanted her to, for hiding out and crying to two stones instead of allowing herself to be around other people, for letting her grief and fear overwhelm her. She always said she would never love; it's what killed her father, and she couldn't bear to put herself through that. But that didn't matter now, she had already fallen.

"Tell me what to do," she whispered to them. "I don't know what to do..."

The next day, her plan was to see if Murphy was possibly at the tree and tell him that she couldn't be his friend. It was too hard, too painful and as much as she valued their friendship (and that with Connor and Noah as well), she had to be selfish for once and think about herself. She didn't dress to impress, instead she dressed in exactly what she had on the day before, complete with her mother's boots and ring, and her father's jacket. She needed their support in this. Riding away from Murphy, knowing she'd never see him again, would be one of the hardest things she'd ever have to do.

Not surprising to her, she found the willow void of human life when she got there. Sighing, she figured she pissed him off the day before-after all, for some reason, their last two "anniversaries" seemed important to him, though she wasn't sure why-so it might just have to wait. Or she could leave a note. Or ride over to the MacManus house. Either one didn't sound good enough; Murphy deserved a face to face discussion and explanation.

Sliding out of the saddle, she tied the horse to one of the branches. She pulled an apple and some hay out of her pocket, handing them over with a soft smile, before sitting down against the large trunk. She pulled a book out of one of the coat's large pockets, an old collection of poems belonging to her father.

_**Forgetfulness**_

_**Anonymous (13th-17th Centuries) **_  
><em><strong>Translated by The Earl of Longford<strong>_

_If now you hate me as you say,_  
><em>Can you forget so soon<em>  
><em>How you and I, the world away,<em>  
><em>Once lay and watched the moon?<em>

_Can you forget the day when cool_  
><em>Seemed to our love the sun,<em>  
><em>The day that we-? But I'm a fool,<em>  
><em>Besides, that day is done.<em>

_Can you forget you stroked my hair?_  
><em>Moist palm upon my brow,<em>  
><em>Red mouth, soft breast-. You do not care.<em>  
><em>All that's forgotten now.<em>

_Have you forgotten too, my flower,_  
><em>How often you would tell<em>  
><em>How God ne'er made until that hour<em>  
><em>A man you loved so well?<em>

_Can you forget your love for me,_  
><em>Whom now you do detest?<em>  
><em>But that's all one, those times are gone.<em>  
><em>No doubt 'tis for the best.<em>

_If each could learn as well as I_  
><em>To profit by my pain,<em>  
><em>There's ne'er a man beneath the sky<em>  
><em>Would ever love again.<em>

She sniffed away the tears; the poem, Aiden read to Mercy the night she died. Bridget remembered sitting outside the door listening and thinking of a wonderful life her parents had and wished she could have something like that, too. A love so full that your whole life is consumed by it, be so close to someone else that your whole being aches for them while they are away. Bridget supposed that's why Aiden left before his time; he ached from the moment Mercy took her last breath. Bridget had always been jealous of their live, and now she was just grateful they got that time together, and grateful that they had eachother now for eternity.

"Yer actually here."

The voice startled her and she looked up quick enough that she didn't have time to brush away the tears. He did seem upset, but his eyes grew wide and soft at the sight of her. She glanced away then, tucking the book back into the pocket and pulling her legs up to her chest, wrapping her dad's coat around her whole body.

"Sorry," she murmured, the thought of their first meeting running through her mind. She winced when she realized Murphy had walked all the way out to the willow the day before, only to be left waiting. She cursed herself for doing so. He didn't deserve that, and he didn't deserve her emotional problems. He was a good man, and he deserved better. "Needed to think."

She felt him move rather than saw him and slowly there was a body next to hers against the trunk. Warmth immediately rushed through her and she longed to just crawl into his arms and never leave, but she was left with that ever-present ache that she couldn't do that. He wasn't hers to curl up with. He didn't want that from her.

"You okay?" he asked, his voice equally as soft.

She nodded, but wiped away another tear, murmuring, "No," even though she kept nodding. He sighed from beside her and placed a hand on her arm, making her breath suck deep into her chest. There wasn't much touching involved with them, but that which she did get was perfect, and she craved it much of the time, almost as much as she craved her parents back.

"What happened?"

So many words wanted to come out, to just tell him absolutely everything, but she couldn't do that. It wasn't his fault she was so very foolish, and she knew him, that's exactly what he would think, and she couldn't have him thinking that, he was too good of a guy.

"I can't do this anymore," she blurted, forcing herself not to look at him as his hands slowly fell from her arm. "So many reasons, all my fault, but I just... You don't need my problems, and you don't need me hanging over your shoulder when it's clear what you want."

"And what's that?" He actually sounded hurt and that was worse than anything she had been feeling before now. She knew she'd hurt him, but she was selfishly hoping he wouldn't show it. That's generally not how he acted.

"Friends," she murmured. "That's all. But I can't do that, not when-" She paused and decided to stand then, she was too antsy to sit down. She shook her head and went back to the horse, grabbing the bits of hay that had fallen from his mouth and feeding it to him again, petting his mane. "Doesn't matter."

"It does if yer leavin'."

"I'm not going anywhere. I just can't do this."

Finally she spun to him, those blue eyes staring at her and she felt more of that ache throughout her body, although this was more like agony. Never looking into those eyes, that face again... It would hurt, and was sheer willpower that she didn't walk over to him right that moment and just kiss him.

"Tell. Me," he said firmly.

She frowned then, reaching for the reins to get ready and run just as she always had. She didn't want to tell him her feelings, he didn't want to hear them. Telling him this way was better than telling him the truth and watching the disgust on his face.

But it seemed her mouth didn't understand when she blurted, "Because I'm in love with you, and you don't want me, and it hurts, okay?" She let out a quick breath, her eyes going wide slightly and she turned back again, bringing her leg up to bring her back onto the horse. Her hands shook, fear and embarrassment pouring through her body as she yelled at herself over and over again for saying something so stupid like that, for sounding like a daft romance movie. "Goddamn it," she muttered, her foot slipping yet again and even though her shoe caught the stirrup, her legs didn't seem to be cooperating.

She tried over and over again until she felt a hand on her arm, spinning her back around. Those eyes... She couldn't, she couldn't be around him when he was just going to tell her, "Thanks, but no thanks," anyway.

"Murphy..." she mumbled, trying to wiggle past him, but he wouldn't let her. Her shocked body tensed as a hand fell to her waist and she looked up into those eyes quickly, seeing how they somehow brightened and she had no clue why. She had never been quite this close and she couldn't help letting her eyes dart to look at his lips and back up, seeing the corners curve into a smile.

"Shut up," he whispered right before those very lips touched hers, and turned her world inside out.

.x.x.x.x.

**-Present Day-**

Bridget hadn't realized how long she had been remembering until Jasper neighed and nudged her hand with his nose. She looked down at the horse, letting out a sigh and a gentle laugh, petting his nose, remembering her beautiful horse as well. Jasper had been born between Chester (the old mare) and Murphy's horse Sadie. While Chester passed away a year ago, Sadie was still around and Jasper seemed to love his mother very much. He acted a lot like his father, and Bridget's hand went to her baby swell at the thought, because she knew that her child might very well be like its father as well. She actually hoped for it, selfish as it was, because then a part of Murphy would always be around her.

Shaking her head, she went back over to Jasper and let her hands slide over his mane. "I know, boy. Let's go." They had sheep to round up and cows to milk. One was pregnant and she had to keep an eye out for it in case she needed to help with it. Mrs. O'Grady had wanted her to stay with her-after all she had been lonely after Mr. O'Grady passed, and she didn't want Bridget doing the hard lifting-but Bridget couldn't leave this house. Noah, Connor...Murphy...they were all around her, and she didn't think she could part from them. Now and then she went over to the house that was once hers to visit her parents, but she knew they would be okay with her moving on. They would want it. She finally had, but now with her boys gone, she found herself over there more often, sitting by the stones and reading their names. She wished she had that for the boys, but their bodies were in Boston, left alone forever while she was stuck in Ireland. Part of her wanted to go over there to see if she could find them, but not yet, she couldn't until after the baby was born.

Climbing on Jasper once more, they went down to get the sheep into the other pasture so she could let out the cows and the pigs. Most of the animals got along save for the chickens, which she kept in a smaller coop by the barn. She kept them mainly for eggs, but now and then she'd use them for meat, however she really hated doing so. Normally one of the boys did something like that, but with them gone, she had to take care of herself.

Once all the animals were where they should be, she was actually sweating some in the heat of the sun, but it felt nice. She headed back to the house, her back stiff from the ride and from the pressure of the baby. She rubbed her belly as she put Jasper back in his stall with some fresh hay and walked back for the house, sighing gently. The strain from the riding was starting to take more and more out of her, but the physical pain was better than dealing with its emotional counterpart. She remembered the day she thought she'd never see him again, and never thought she'd have to do it all over. But it was so much worse knowing that beautiful man was gone from this world, than knowing he just wasn't part of hers.

"Daddy loves you," she murmured again to her belly as if her child could sense its mother's distress. She knew Murphy loved them, and she didn't blame him for going to do what he needed to. She would always wish she kept him in her arms, of course, but she still didn't blame him.

Lunch was quick and she took a bath in the barn right after. She needed the quick soak and it was hard to rise from the tub after with no help and her belly protruding with baby, but she managed to stagger to her feet. She dried herself off, ignoring the pieces of hay that clung to her bare feet, and got dressed in a soft sundress. The rest of the day would be spent in the garden tending to the vegetables and soaking up the sun. Jasper was finished eating as well, so she moved him outside so she could see him while she spent time in the garden, only this time she spotted something else, too.

Normally she didn't have trespassers on her land. It was far too off the beaten track for anybody to really want to venture there, only Mrs. O'Grady even bothered, and only to check up on Bridget herself. But she spotted them before they spotted her (she thinks) and her eyes went wide with alarm. Her hand flew to her belly and she ran over to Jasper who started to make nervous noises as if he could sense danger.

_Oh, God, please don't let them hurt me..._

"Bridget!"

She almost didn't recognize the voice, and she stayed behind Jasper as she lead him slowly for the barn to take shelter. She was terrified that they knew her name, and was unsure how as she didn't know many people, even though she had lived in this area her entire life. It was almost as if she had forgotten any other voices besides her own or Mrs. O'Grady because it took her a full minute to even process that she should know who that voice belonged to.

Of course it had been five months since she last heard it.

The thought made her pull up short and her breath caught in her throat. She glanced at Jasper and knew that the voice couldn't just be in her own head because the horse heard it, too. It sounded like...

"...Murphy?"

She whimpered his name and slowly edged out from behind the side of the barn, her eyes searching the area for the man that had spoken her name, praying she was just going crazy like she swore she had been all this time. Fear and excitement went through her, an overwhelming sense when she had been sad for so very long. It felt like a lifetime had passed in those few months, yet as she watched the man emerge from the house, she knew that it hadn't been. Because if it had, he wouldn't be standing there looking at her as if no time had gone by. He wouldn't be standing there not looking a day older than he had when he went to Boston.

"Connor!" he yelled, bringing his dirty-blond brother from the house at a run and the other man stopped as well, both staring at her.

She had to be dreaming, she was, she had to be. Her boys were dead, there was no way Connor and Murphy were standing there before her now. No way...

"Bridget!" Connor's voice this time. Rarely did she hear her voice in her dreams, and it made her sway because they were there. They were there. Alive, there and alive. Back to her, as she had dreamt of so very often.

She let out a sob, her heart racing with pain and love, and then she was walking, then running, running for the man that had somehow, against all odds, come back to her.


End file.
